Shadows on the Wall
by WHiTEZombE
Summary: UPDATEpart4! Father hasn't come home yet.. he ended work hours ago.. where is he, and what was that shadow on the wall, just now? ..and now, part 4! The final showdown! Updates... part4: 111305 part3: 062004
1. Shadows on the Wall

INSERT DISCLAIMER: Well, it's the same old disclaimer telling you that I do not own Resident Evil, and I am not making any money off of this, blah blah blah. We've all seen/heard this about a billion times, right? Good. Anyway, this story doesn't involve any popular characters (besides Lickers :P), so it might be a turn-off to some (actually, I bet most) of you. It's just a simple story of two siblings trapped in their house as the madness of Umbrella begins to tak hold of Raccoon City. Please leave comments if you think the story warrants it. Dos vadanya, Comrades.  
  
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Resident Evil  
  
Shadows on the Wall  
  
"You're not leaving me here, are you?" Kim cried as her older brother, Daly attacked their father's locked drawer with his baseball bat. The crack of the bat against the heavy oak rang throughout the small house as he desperately tried to break open the drawer.  
  
"I won't be long, Kim," Daly told her, trying to quell her fears.  
  
"What if more of those things get inside? What if they find me up here? What if --- "  
  
"Yes!" Daly cried as the lock smashed in. He pulled the drawer out and took out a few clips and set them on top of the desk.  
  
"Daly.." Kim whispered.  
  
"What?" Daly asked, a bit annoyed.  
  
"What if you don't come back?" He looked Kim in the eyes and saw that she actually did believe he was not going to make it back.  
  
"Look, I'll make it back, all right? I'm not going far, only down to the Police Station to go get some help."  
  
"Why don't you just call them?"  
  
"The phone line's dead, remember?"  
  
"Oh.. right." Daly continued to look through the drawer, while Kim walked around nervously, her eyes cast down on the royal blue carpet of their father's room. Her brother muttered to himself heatedly, and slammed the drawer shut a few seconds later.  
  
"What's wrong?" Kim asked him.  
  
"I can't find where Dad put the rounds for his gun," Daly sighed, pressing a palm against his eye as if he had a headache. Kim's eyes widened. "It wouldn't be so hard if the power hadn't gone out." He glanced at his sister and noticed the terrified look on her face. "What? What is it, Kim?"  
  
"D-Dad locked it-t in his priv-vate cupboard," she stammered.  
  
"You mean..?"  
  
"You can't go down there, Daly, it'll eat you!" Kim wailed, grabbing onto her brother's legs.  
  
"Hey, let go, Kim!" Daly tried to pry his sister's arms from his legs. "It's the only way. I'm not going to go outside without some kind of protection."  
  
"Just don't go, stay here with me!"  
  
"Look, Kim," Daly shouted, grabbing his sister's shoulders, hoping it would somehow calm her down. "If I don't get some help, it won't matter if we stay here. Those things will eventually find their way here, and we'll be dead, and we would have no one to blame but ourselves. If I get to the Police Station, they can come over here and get you, and we can be safe."  
  
"You promise?"  
  
"Of course. They're police officers, they can keep us safe." She stared up at her brother, debating whether or not to let him go. They were here, all alone. Their father had called from one of the Umbrella Power facilities about a few hours earlier, telling them to stay inside the house and to bolt all the doors and windows. He should have been home by now. He should be there to protect them.  
  
"How are you gonna get past that thing?" she asked as she let go of his legs. Daly smiled and twirled his bat around.  
  
"There's only one, I think I can handle it."  
  
"You don't even know what it is," Kim said, a lump suddenly forming in her throat. She could almost imagine the unknown monster devouring her brother whole.  
  
"It sounded weak anyway," Daly told her, a thoughtful look on his face. "It was having a hard time breathing normally. I think something might have crushed its throat or something."  
  
"But ---"  
  
"Look, you can hide in here until I get the ammunition," Daly said, opening the large door of their father's steel wall locker. It was pretty much empty inside, save for a few boxes of paper stacked in the left corner and a few old, musty coats. She stepped inside, crouched down low and wrapped her arms around her legs.  
  
"Hurry back," Kim told him as Daly closed the door and latched it shut.  
  
Daly brought his bat up in what he thought was an aggressive stance and slowly crept into the darkness of the hallway. He turned right, keeping his eyes locked on the basement door at the end of the hallway. The floorboards moaned with every step, and he winced as if the noise were hurting him. If that thing was anywhere near the door, it would surely hear him coming and jump out the instant he opened it. He tried to step more lightly, but that only seemed to make the floorboards shout. In the end, he gave up entirely and went at the pace he had started at. He would have to risk an ambush. He shakily put his hand on the door knob, thinking to himself that this was a bad idea. Daly cursed under his breath and closed his eyes. He tried to calm himself down, steady his nerves. When he felt he was good, he turned the knob slowly, and uncertainly opened the door. The hoarse, raspy breathing of the thing floated into the hallway. Daly peered into the basement, searching for it, too afraid to step in without knowing where it was. He heard a loud 'click click' somewhere close by. His eyes darted around the darkness. Still nothing. Daly reluctantly took a step inside.. and almost slipped down the stairs. He thrust his hands out and caught onto the railing. The bat flew out of his hands and clattered down the stairs to the cement floor below. Daly got up and stared helplessly at the bat lying at the bottom of the stairs. There was still no sign of the thing, but he could still hear it breathing heavily. An intense, primal fear swept through his body, and he felt all of his hair stand on end. He was about to head back to the room when something caught his eye. A pool of thick water was puddled up on the landing. There was no doubt that this was what he had slipped on. But what was it? Daly bent over to get a closer look. A look of disgust crossed his face when the stench of it reached his nostrils. It smelled of rotting fish and bile. It looked a lot like.. saliva. A frightening hiss filled the room, making Daly jump to his feet. He looked up to where the noise had come from, only to have a long, sticky tentacle whip across his face. Daly cried out and toppled over the railing. He landed on the cement hard and had the wind knocked out of him. He rolled around for a few seconds, desperately trying to scream. Then he saw it. A black shadow moved stealthily across the ceiling, whipping around its unnaturally long tongue. Saliva pooled down as it hissed at Daly and targeted him with wild eyes. It twisted its body and fell down, landing on top of the terrified boy.  
  
The loud crash of breaking glass came from somewhere in the house. Kim tightened up, knowing more of the monsters had broken into the house. She stood up slowly and put her ear against the door. She thought she heard something, but she couldn't be sure. Her hand groped around in the dark for the handle awhile. When her hand touched the steel handle, she quickly unlatched the door and slowly craked it oprn. She couldn't see much, but there were hoarse, raspy breathing sounds coming from somewhere in the room. Kim peered around cautiously. There seemed to be nothing, but.. Her eyes widened with fear as she watched something crawl down from the ceiling and across the wall. There was a strange clicking noise as it crawled, as if it had claws. The room was too dark to make out anything, but she was too afraid to leave the door open any longer to investigate. She closed the door quickly and latched it shut again. Hot tears streamed down her face as she lay curled up in the corner of the wall locker, somehow knowing Daly was not coming back and wondering when someone would come and rescue her from Raccoon City..  
  
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WHiTE at Ddogwhite@aol.com 


	2. Shadows on the Wall Part 2

Resident Evil  
  
Shadows on the Wall - Part 2  
  
"Hey, Ethan," Waylan whispered from across the other side of the dark, dusty living area. Ethan took a moment from his meticulous examination of a fading black and white picture hung crookedly over the long unused fire place, and looked over his shoulder to answer his partner.  
  
"What?" Ethan replied coarsely.  
  
"Come check this out. I think I found something."  
  
"What is it this time?" Ethan walked heavily towards where Waylan was bending over trying to decide what he was looking at. "It better not be another dead rat."  
  
"No, it's some sort of liquid."  
  
"So what is it, blood?"  
  
"No, it's not blood."  
  
"Then what is it?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Let me have a look." Ethan pushed Waylan out of the way and observed the rather large puddle of liquid pooled in the corner of the room. He squinted at the stuff, and crinkled his nose when he realized a pungent fishy stench was emanating from it. His hands went to his belt and unstrapped his night stick from it. He stuck the tip of the night stick into the puddle and slowly stirred it. The liquid was not runny like water. It had a thick, gravy like quality to it. After a few more seconds, Ethan came to his conclusion.  
  
"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" Ethan sighed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's just a puddle of stagnant water." Ethan replaced his night stick and headed back to the picture over the fire place. There was something about it that did not seem right.  
  
"Well, it could have been something," Waylan mumbled as he disappeared into the kitchen area. Ethan smirked to himself and went back to the picture. There were six members in the family, a mother, a father, two older sons, and a girl and a boy, who looked strikingly like eachother. Twins, most likely. The whole family was dressed in a black suit or a black dress respectively. The strange part about the whole picture was that there were six digits marked in black ink over there heads. At first Ethan thought they were birthdates, but then that meant that the two kids were not twins at all. "023191" over the girl and "041893" over the boy. 1991... that was about seven years ago, and the two kids definitely did look about that age, but he was also sure that these two were twins. So maybe the numbers were not dates, but just numbers of some sort. Most of the other numbers above the other family members were smudged and beyond recognition. Ethan finally tore himself away from the picture and joined Waylan in the kitchen.   
  
"Lights don't work," Waylan reported as Ethan stepped into the room. Ethan's partner was quickly scanning the dust covered room with his flashlight.   
  
"I doubt the power even works in this place," Ethan said. "Even if it did, the power in this part of town has been out for hours." Waylan did not seem to be paying attention. He was more interested in the kitchen walls.  
  
"This may sound kind of weird," Waylan began, "but it looks like someone was walking on the walls." Ethan looked at Waylan strangely. He was not completely sure that his partner was all there.   
  
"Are you feeling all right, Waylan?" Ethan asked.  
  
"So now you think I'm crazy, huh?" Waylan replied bitterly. "Take a look for yourself." Ethan groaned to himself but took out his flashlight anyways. He flipped it on and threw light onto the kitchen's walls. A strange trail of undusted wall ran around half of the kitchen and led back out into the living area. It looked like someone had jumped up onto the wall and dragged their feet across it.  
  
"Maybe a bird flew through the room," Ethan whispered.  
  
"Doesn't look like a bird could have done something like this."  
  
"Well, what do you think?"  
  
"I don't know, but I'm going to see where this trail goes." Waylan walked purposefully out of the kitchen and back into the living area. After a few moments, Ethan followed him. There was nothing left to look at in the kitchen anyway. The undusted trail moved from the right wall of the living area and up to the ceiling. There was not a visible trail of removed dust, and for a moment Ethan thought that was as far as it went. Then Waylan discovered the trail coming down again from the ceiling and unto the left side of the wall, and straight into the hallway where all the rooms were located. It was not too long of a hallway, just two rooms on either side and a door straight ahead. That's where the trail ended. Waylan tucked away his flashlight and tried the knob. The door did not move. Waylan sized up the door for a few seconds, then thrust his shoulder into it forcefully. It was not long before he admitted defeat.  
  
"Damn thing won't budge," Waylan muttered.  
  
"Here, let me try," Ethan offered, producing a lockpick kit decorated with the Raccoon Scutum Security Service name and logo.   
  
"I didn't know they issued us lockpicks," Waylan commented as Ethan jammed a pick into the keyhole.   
  
"They used to about ten years back," Ethan told him as he began his work. "I guess the company thought we would hardly ever use these things." Ethan worked fiercely to get the tumblers to move inside the lock. It had been quite a time since he had last used this skill, and he was not quite sure he would be able to do it.   
  
"I don't know why the RPD had us come here," Waylan grumbled. "There's nothing in this abandoned house anyway."  
  
"They're all too busy dealing with all the riots going on around town," Ethan said. "Come to think of it, the RPD has had calls to this place before. They never find anything, but I doubt they've gone into the basement."   
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Chief Irons always tells them to just do a quick five minute assessment, and by the relatively good condition of this door, I think it's safe to say that they haven't gone through here before."   
  
"Well, I hope we get paid for doing all this extra work." There was a silence for awhile as Ethan tried as hard as he could to concentrate on the lock. He wiped the sweat out of his bushy grey brow with the back of his hand and continued working. The whole house was silent, save for the clicking and moving of the tumblers. Ethan was about to give up when the lock let out an audible click.  
  
"Me, too," Ethan replied. He pushed the door open slowly, and instinctavely went for the light switch. He cursed under his breath for forgetting about the power situation and turned on his flashlight. Waylan did the same. The basment was just as dusty and rotten as the rest of the house, but there was something else different about this place. There were strange whirring and humming noises, and it reeked of death. Ethan's hand slowly crept to his handgun. Something told him that something was down there, something was waiting. When they hit the ground floor, they saw four large air filters at either corner, on at full power and whirring loudly. The floor was littered with large cables and tubes leading to three square canisters in the middle of the floor. They were all lit up with flashy dials and knobs, but two of them seemed to had been ripped apart from the inside.  
  
"What is this place?" Waylan breathed. "Some kind of lab?"  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine," Ethan replied, taking a closer look at one of the canisters. It was a pretty sturdy canister, made out of thick steel. He did not even want to know what had the kind of strength to tear through something as dense as that canister.  
  
"You all right, Ethan?" Waylan asked.  
  
"Of course," Ethan replied, a little annoyed. "Why?"  
  
"I can hear you breathing from here."  
  
"What?" That's when Ethan heard the low raspy breathing echoing throughout the tiny basement. He looked around, aiming his light at every possible place. "Is that one of the machines?"  
  
"Sounds a lot like breathing to me," Waylan whispered. The breathing sound was implemented with a slow, steady clicking noise. The two security officers franticly searched the room for the source of the noise, but could find none. The creepy, scratchy breathing continued, and Ethan felt his heart rate escalating as the smell of death attacked his nostrils.  
  
"What the hell is that smell?" Waylan cried in disgust. Ethan's gaze slowly went to the ground.  
  
"Look," was all he said. Waylan looked down to where Ethan was staring and noticed something that was never there before.  
  
"It's like that pool of stagnant water we saw upstairs, but.." Waylan stopped as he noticed the water was dripping down from the ceiling. Both of their flashlights snapped to the ceiling and stopped on a man hanging from the ceiling. Only it was not a man. It had the figure of a man, but it was bending and twisting in an odd fashion. It had no skin, and its brain was exposed. Ethan swore he could see the brain pulse. Huge sharp claws stretched out from its hands, and a monstrously whip-like tongue dangled out of its razor sharp tooth filled mouth. What had been dripping down was its own foul saliva. Without more than a moment's hesitation, Ethan drew his gun and fired at it. The thing seemed to have sensed the danger and let go of the ceiling it fell rapidly to the floor and landed with an ominous clacking sound. Waylan reached for his weapon, but the thing whipped out its tongue and struck him across the face. Ethan's partner cried out in surprise and crashed into one of the filters. The thing hissed at Ethan and bared its teeth. Ethan fired at the creature again and hit it square in the shoulder. It screamed in pain and whipped its tongue at him. The tongue quickly snapped at Ethan's hands, and forced him to drop his weapon. The creature hissed in triumph and jumped on Waylan. The security guard screamed in pain as the creature dug its claws into his chest again and again. Ethan watched as Waylan's chest spurt out blood like a water balloon full of pin holes. Waylan slumped down dead and the creature began to tear out chunks of his flesh. Ethan picked up his weapon and fired inaccurately. The creature screamed and jumped unto the stairs. It hissed at Ethan before crawling out of the basement. Ethan quickly chased the monster up the stairs. He chased it out of the house and down the street. Obviously it's scared of me, Ethan thought. Otherwise it would have killed me back in the basement. The creature hissed at Ethan again before jumping over a low fence surrounding a one story house. Ethan stopped at the gate and readied his gun. He moved into the yard slowly. Everything was dark, and that made him uneasy. He had not seen where the creature had gone and he knew it was just waiting for him to get close. There was a constant banging noise coming from somewhere inside the house. Maybe the creature had gotten stuck somewhere trying to get in. He looked down at the base of the house. The basment window was wide open. The banging stopped. Ethan waited for a few minutes, waiting for the noise to start up again. When it did not, Ethan tried turning the door knob. No success. Ethan dug around in his pocket for his lockpick kit, hoping he would be able to get this door open faster than the last. He jammed the pick into the key hole and began working it. That's when he heard the low, raspy breathing sound, steadily echoing throughout the cold night air. Ethan turned his head to left and the creature's tongue darted out of the dog house hidden in the darkness and into his eye. Ethan let out a low grunt as crumbled on the welcome mat. His gun and his lockpick kit clattered on the cement landing noisily, and hot blood gushed out of his eye socket and onto the ground. He felt the creature land on him and sink its jaws into his cheek and tear it off. Ethan wanted to scream, but he could not. All he could think about was that the creature was pretty heavy, and that it might crush him to death. His thoughts were all jumbled, and he could not think straight. It was like he was in a bad dream. Then the creature bit into his neck and ripped it apart. Blood burst out of his neck and splattered onto the door, the mat, everywhere. Ethan lay dead, his nerves still making his corpse twitch. The creature was still not satisfied. It sensed something and jumped up onto the side of the house. The creature scurried around the side of the house for awhile, the clicking of its claws harmonious with the orchestra of the moans of the undead. It finally found a window, and crawled inside the house. 


	3. Shadows on the Wall Part 3

Resident Evil  
  
Shadows on the Wall - Part 3  
  
"God dammit, there's just too many of them!" Mendoza shouted over the racket of machine gun fire and low moaning of the flesh hungry undead.  
  
"We have to get to the extraction point!" Orlando yelled as he mowed down a column of zombies. "The city is done for." Mendoza cursed under his breath as the seemingly endless wave of walking dead shuffled and staggered towards the remains of his squad. Orlando, Hurtado and himself were surrounded, the only sign of escape was behind them, through a dark alley echoing of death.  
  
"There's no way we're gonna get through all of them," Hurtado said as he calmly reloaded his weapon. "We have to go through the alley."  
  
"It'll take too long," Mendoza replied. "By the time we get there, our transport will have left."  
  
"It's either chance the alley, or wait here until we run out of ammo," Orlando shouted over his shoulder. Mendoza stared at the rotting, maggot filled faces in front of them, and then the stretching black behind them. If they went through the alley, there was no telling what they might run into. They might even run into more of those skinless monsters with claws. He could still smell the powerful stench of decay seeping out of its mouth. He could still hear the steady clicking noise it made as it slowly made its way across the wall. He could still see its whip like tongue, shooting out of its mouth, tearing through flesh.  
  
"Mendoza!" Orlando barked. Mendoza gritted his teeth.   
  
"Through the alley!" he ordered. Hurtado dashed towards the alley, taking a few pock shots before he got into it. Orlando ran in next. He gave Mendoza a look of relief as he passed by him. Mendoza took one last look at the living sea of dead flesh and realized they were damned if they did, and damned if they didn't. The alley was small. It was pitch black and the air was eerily still and warm. Mendoza flipped the switch to turn on his flashlight, forgetting that he had fallen on it and had broken the bulb earlier that evening. He tossed the junk behind him, the clank it made as it hit the cement floor ringing throughout the passage. All that could be heard was the heavy stomp of boots, breathing, and the desperate moans of the undead.  
  
"Wall," Hurtado reported. "Turn right." Mendoza threw out his arm, hit the wall, turned right. Somewhere up ahead, he heard glass breaking and shouting coming from Hurtado. Seconds later came a short explosion of machine gun fire. Mendoza heard him curse loudly.  
  
"You all right up there?" Mendoza called out into the dark.  
  
"I'm fine," Hurtado replied. "Just a little scratch." They continued their run through the alley, taking more turns running into a couple zombies. Mendoza was amazed that an alley this complicated even existed. After what seemed like hours, Hurtado reported that he could see light up ahead. They broke out of the tiny alley into the cold night air.   
  
"Where are we?" Orlando murmurred.  
  
"I don't know," Mendoza replied, as he scanned the area. "That looks like a residential area up ahead."  
  
"Maybe we should go check it out," Hurtado said as he examined his wound. "Damn zombie chomped me good."  
  
"You'll be all right. Come on, let's go!" The three men dashed up the hill and into the middle of an empty street. Unlike the city below, fire did not dance dangerously atop the buildings, and the dead did not shamble about in a parade of decay. Many of the houses were painted a pale white, and a lot of windows were either boarded up or broken. Zombies had no doubt been through here, but where were they now? They walked down the street, suspiciously glancing at every front door, expecting a horde of monsters to burst out of every home and meet them in the middle of the street.  
  
"You think we should check out some of these houses?" Orlando asked.  
  
"I don't know," Mendoza replied.  
  
"There might be survivors here," Hurtado added. The sound of gun fire suddenly filled the night sky. The three men ducked behind a parked car and raised their weapons and began scanning the area for the shooter.  
  
"Where did that come from?" Orlando whispered. Hurtado pointed to something about ten houses away.  
  
"Look!" he whispered loudly. A man wearing a flannel jacket was running into the front yard of a house, carrying what looked like a handgun. "What do you think he's doing?"  
  
"I don't know," Mendoza replied. "Let's follow him." They made their way to the house and crouched down behind the fence. Mendoza motioned for them to storm the yard, and they rushed in, weapons drawn. The man lay dead at the doorstep, his face torn apart. His weapon and what looked like a small knife lay in a pool of his blood. The words Scrutum Securtiy Service was printed on his jacket.  
  
"Damn," Hurtado muttered. "Something got this guy good."  
  
"Those things are here," Mendoza said.  
  
"What things?" Orlando asked.  
  
"Those things we saw in the sewer. Look at those claw marks on the side of the house." Mendoza stepped up to the front door and shoved his foot into it. It budged a little, but not much more as he continued his assault. He cursed, aimed his sights on the door knob, and pulled the trigger. His machine gun spat out a torrent of bullets that practically tore through the door knob and knocked it off door. All it took to break through was a final shove of the shoulder. The three men searched through the house rapidly, systematically scanning every room. They swarmed into one room, only to be knocked back by a forceful blow from a whip. No, not a whip. A tongue. The thing hissed furious murder as it clung from its perch on the ceiling. Mendoza and Orlando jumped head first into the room and recovered with a roll. Hurtado walked into the room, firing madly at the ceiling. The monster screeched and dropped to the floor. Before Mendoza and Orlando could even aim their weapons, the creature swiftly whipped its tongue in a fierce circular attack, striking them both in the face. Hurtado fired at the creature, getting a few hits in before the creature hopped into the air and slashed its razor sharp claws through his torso. Hurtado screamed out in pain and dropped his weapon. The monster shot its tongue out, peircing Hurtado's neck, reducing his scream to a bloody gurgle. Orlando shouted and fired at the creature, only to end up hitting Hurtado in the legs and stomach as the creature leapt out into the hallway. Hurtado slumped over at the entrace of the room, the creature screaming murder throughout the house.  
  
"Shit!" Orlando shouted as went to check Hurtado. "I didn't mean to shoot him!"  
  
"He was bitten by that zombie," Mendoza reminded him. "Maybe this is for the better."  
  
"What are you talking about!"  
  
"Listen, at least it won't have to be us to have to put him down!"  
  
"You don't have to ---" Mendoza quickly put his hand over Orlando's mouth.  
  
"Be quiet," Mendoza told him. "Did you hear that?"   
  
"Hear what?"  
  
"I thought I heard a noise come from that locker." Mendoza walked quietly to the locker and put his hand on the handle. He rested it there for a while, not sure if he wanted to open it or not. He pushed down on the handle slowly. The latch unlocked itself with a loud clang. A shuffling noise came from inside. Mendoza looked at Orlando. He nodded and brought his weapon up. Mendoza aimed his weapon at the locker as well, and cautiously opened the door. Laying curled up in the corner of the locker was a little girl. Fearful tears were seeping out of her tightly shut eyes. 


	4. Shadows on the Wall Part 4

Hey guys! Sorry this update took forever... wait a minute... how long has it been? A year? Yikes! Well, the truth is, I sort of wrote myself into a wall with this fanfic. For the longest time, I could think of no way to end it sensibly. However, after this last hiatus, I am glad to say that I have had enough time to come up with an ending. So, here it is! Shadows on the Wall, Part 4!

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I DO NOT own the Resident Evil franchise, but this story is of my own creation. Zing!

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Resident Evil

Shadows on the Wall - Part 4

"Bates! Are we ever going to get out of this goddamned city?" Bates gritted his teeth as he turned a hard right. The sound of screeching tires broke up the monotony of the hungry moans, rolling fires and bloody screams. He wasn't a very good driver to begin with, and driving Mr. Redmond's stretch limo wasn't making his evening any easier. The limo hopped off the road and slammed into the side of a small store front. Luckily, two of those zombie things happened to be in the way to cushion the blow, so there wasn't much damage.

"Drive, dammit, drive!" Mr. Redmond screamed.

"I'm trying, sir!" Bates replied, pushing his foot as far as it would go onto the gas pedal. The limo squealed and sped off again, taking a flower cart out of action in the process.

"I have to get to the extraction point," Mr. Redmond said a bit more calmly now, although he peered suspiciously out of his window like a soldier expecting an ambush. He anxiously thumbed the Ruger MKI resting in his lap. "My chopper leaves in thirty minutes."

"I know, sir," Bates answered him blankly. He was too busy avoiding debris and those shambling monstrocities to pay much attention to his employer's whining. "I'm doing the best I can right now."

"Well, you're not doing good enough." Bates gripped the steering wheel tightly. Underneath the leather gloves he wore, his knuckles were turning white.

"I was hired as a body guard, not a driver."

"One would think you would at least know how to drive."

"Again, sir, I am very sorry."

"I'm sure you are. You could probably sum up your entire life with that word."

"Sir - "

"I've seen your file. High school drop out. Worked at fast food restaurants your whole life. You barely had enough money to go to the Grey Wolf Securities school."

"Sir - "

"And now here you are, working your ass off to support two children born out of wedlock in a small apartment in the lower side of downtown." Bates brought his foot hard onto the brakes, sending a flailing Mr. Redmond from his seat and into the wall that seperated the driver's seat from the rest of the vehicle. The limo's wheels screamed agony and bled smoke and finally came to a stop in the middle of the street.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Mr. Redmond bellowed as he fumbled for his gun.

"Trying my hardest not to beat the living shit out of you." Bates turned his face so that Mr. Redmond could see him. "Look, I can walk out on you right now. I've got nothing to left to live for. My whole family's dead. But I'm choosing to save your ass, because that's what you hired me for. Now could you please let me do my job?" Mr. Redmond didn't answer. He just sat there with a dazed look in his eyes.

"Sir, are you all right?" Bates asked him. Mr. Redmond blinked and focused on the body guard.

"Yes," he finally replied. "I-I'm sorry. It's just the stress. It's this city. The city, and what's happened to it."

"I know, but there's nothing we can do about it." Mr. Redmond got up and slinked back to his seat.

"Yeah."

"Don't worry, sir, I'll get you to the extraction point."

"The bridge is out," Mr. Redmond pointed out, directing Bates' view to the shuffling mob of undead that was gathered on the bridge.

"I know a short cut through a residential area," Bates told him as he started driving again. Mr. Redmond let out a deep breath and placed his Ruger back on his lap. He shuffled around his right pants pocket for a while and pulled out a few pills. They were stuffed into his mouth and crunched hurridly. Almost instantly he felt light headed, but he felt more confident than he had in years. He chuckled softly to himself as Bates navigated them through the dark streets of Raccoon City.

"Damn you, Umbrella," he muttered softly.

- - - - - - - - - -

"It's all right, honey," Mendoza said quietly. The little girl was badly shaken up and wouldn't move from her corner in the wall locker. He looked at Orlando and nodded towards the room's entrance. Orlando quickly turned and traced his weapon at the door. "We're here to help you."

"Daly..." she whimpered.

"What did you say?" He gently brushed a strand of her dark hair away from her face.

"Daly, my brother... h-he went downstairs."

"Can you sit up for me?" She sniffled some more, but she sat up in the locker and looked at Mendoza with some hope in her red teary eyes.

"Are you g-guys police men?" she asked.

"Sort of," Mendoza replied. "What's your name?"

"Kim."

"That's a pretty name." Kim seemed very much like Mendoza's own little girl. She was still innocent and pure, untouched by the corruption of the real world. He smiled at her, and she sort of smiled back. "Everything will be okay." A horrifying roar sounded from somewhere in the house, causing Mendoza to bring his weapon back up. Kim let out a little yelp and tried to crawl even further into the locker.

"Stay here," Mendoza told her. "We're going to see what's happened."

"Nooo!" Kim whined. "Don't leave me alone."

"It'll be all right. Just hide in the locker until we get back, okay?"

"But you won't come back. You'll never come back, just like Daly."

"I promise you I'll be back." She began crying again, but she reluctantly agreed and curled back up in the corner. Mendoza closed the locker and latched it shut.

"You ready?" Orlando asked.

"How's the hallway look?" Orlando squinted into the hallway.

"It looks clear."

"All right." Mendoza took a deep breath. "Go." Orlando slipped out into hallway followed by Mendoza. They approached each doorway cautiously and cleared each room before heading to the next. The living area was rechecked, and all that was left was the basement. The door was wide open, but they no longer heard the raspy breathing they had come to expect from the monster. All they could hear now was an unnerving squishing sound. Orlando pointed with his weapon at a pool of liquid on the landing. The two looked at each other, nodded. Mendoza held up three fingers. Two fingers. One. Orlando rushed down to the bottom of staircase and aimed his weapon at the oddly formed shadows in the basement. Mendoza stayed at the top of the stairs, trying his best to cover Orlando and trying not to throw up from the foul stench of decay rising from the pool of saliva next to his feet. From the moon light coming in from the basement window, they could see something laying motionless next to the stairs. It was a little boy. Closer to the center there was something huge. Really huge. It was feasting noisily on something, and whatever it was eating was letting out one final hiss before it died. There then came a ripping of muscle and spurting of blood as something ungodly began to transpire. The monster roared as its body began to change in the darkness. The two men opened fire on the creature, their muzzle flashes hinting as to what the monster was becoming. Out of the darkness, the creature's tongue shot towards Mendoza. He jumped back just in time as the fleshy rotten whip crashed into railing, destroying it completely.

"Shit," Mendoza cursed. "Get out of there Orlando!" Orlando hurried up the stairs, continuing to assault the monster until he was out of its sight. The two ran out into the street and reloaded their weapons.

"There's no way we're going to kill that thing," Orlando huffed. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"We can't," Mendoza told him. "We have to get Kim out of there."

"She's dead in there, and we will be too if we go back in there."

"She's just a little girl! She can't protect herself."

"Listen to reason! We can't possibly - " The sound of splintering wood and breaking glass filled the air as the monster crashed through the front wall of the house and leapt into the street in front of them. Orlando and Mendoza turned and fired frantically into the beast's body. It had grown twice its size. Its skin looked tough and leathery. Huge bluish veins popped out of its arms and legs, and its claws had become black and life threatening. Its whip-like tongue was a deathly gray and it twitched around like a nervous limb. The monster dragged it across the asphault as it moved towards the men, emitting a raspy breathy growl.

"Dammit, our rounds are bouncing right off of it!" Mendoza shouted.

"Aim for its brain," Orlando told him as he reloaded his weapon. Despite all the changes the monster had gone through, its brain was still unprotected and vulnerable. They both fired at its head in a desperate flurry of lead. The bullets bit into the monter's brain and spit up brain matter mixed with a sticky yellow liquid. It roared at them defiantly and threw its tongue towards Orlando. The tongue smashed into Orlando's knee, bringing him to the ground.

"My knee!" Orlando screamed. "I think it's brok - " Orlando was cut off as the tongue twitched back and smacked him across the face. His face split open and gushed blood. He didn't move.

"Shit," Mendoza thought as he went to reload. The monster snapped its head towards Mendoza, bringing its tongue crashing into his weapon. Mendoza was knocked backward. He watched helplessly as his weapon clattered to the ground. The monster hissed triumphantly and stared at him with murderous eyes. All of the sudden, the monster seemed distracted and it leapt into the air with a screech that brought blood to Mendoza's ears. He turned around just in time to see it land heavily on a limo that was driving up the street. The limo swerved a few times before speeding past him and crashing into a tree opposite Kim's house. The limo's headlights shined into the room where they had found her. Mendoza quickly picked up his weapon, checked it, then threw it in the grass. It was useless to him now. The body was cracked. The barrel bent. Suddenly, someone from inside the limo opened fire. The monster responded by thrusting its claws into the front windshield. The passenger door opened and a white-haired man in a brown suit stumbled out. He ran away from the wreck and away from Mendoza, putting a new clip into his weapon in the process. The monster was still mercilessly killing the driver of the limo, who was screaming bloody murder. Mendoza grabbed Orlando's weapon and ran back into the house. He rushed through the dark hallway and into the room where he had left Kim. The headlights from the limo lit up the room in an almost eerie way. He hurriedly unlatched the locker and dragged the little girl out.

"Ow!" Kim complained. "What's happening?"

"We have to get out of here!" Mendoza shouted. There came a raspy growl from outside the window. Both Kim and Mendoza looked out the window, horrified. The monster came crashing though, its tongue hanging out, pooling its rancid saliva all over the floor. Mendoza brought his weapon up, but the monster lashed out its tongue and smacked it out of his hands. Kim sat down, hugged her knees and closed her eyes, trying to make herself disappear. Mendoza wrapped his arms around her, hoping it would protect her in some way. It wasn't fair for her to die like this. What Umbrella had done wasn't right. He watched as the monster screamed and leapt into the air, bringing back its claws for the kill. Then, he was blinded by light.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Where did Dr. Brians go off to?" The scientist looked up from his work and regarded the guard. He was in a white radiation suit that looked very similar to the scientists' yellow radiation suit, only his was outfitted with just a single oxygen tank. The scientists' had two tanks. He carried a silenced M16A2 rifle with one clip. Apparently, they didn't expect to find much in this nuclear wasteland.

"He went over there to check some of the houses," the scientist replied.

"Thanks." The guard walked down the street, duly noting that the houses in this area were somewhat intact. From the corner of his visor, he saw a flash of yellow.

"Dr. Brians?" the guard inquired. The scientist did not answer, so the guard made his way towards him. As he got closer, he realized that Dr. Brians was staring intently at some kind of black smudge on one of the walls.

"Is everything all right, Dr. Brians?" the guard asked.

"Yes," Dr. Brians replied. "I was just studying this nuclear shadow. It looks as though there were two people here. Most likely it was an adult and a child by the way this shadow is covering that one." He pointed out his theory to the guard, who in turn, pretended to be interested. "Looks as though they were being attacked by something by looking at this shadow, but I just can't tell what."

"Umbrella is paying you to collect data, Dr. Brians, not to formulate useless theories by looking at shadows."

"Yes, but - "

"I think we should get back together with the group, Dr. Brians."

"But there's no harm in staying here awhile, is there?" Even through his radiation suit, Dr. Brians could hear the soft 'click' of the rifle coming off of safe.

"Let's go."

The End.


End file.
